Turdas, 4^th Evening Star, 4E 201

to Loredas, 6^th Evening Star, 4E 201

As the portal’s dweomer began, Malacath laughed and said, “Revisiting me so soon, mortal champion? This will be amusing.”

I materialised within a pocket plane of The Ash Pit. A strange, out-of-focus fog covered the floor and ceiling. Parallel rows of flames suggested the path I should follow.

When closer to the flames, rows of columns temporarily manifested. They were made of granite and Dwemer metal.

The columns vanished, and so did the flames.

I assume that if I take the wrong path, I will be teleported to the beginning.

I detest mazes and understand how this place would cause grief for others. However, my memory is infallible. That brief glimpse of the columns was all I needed to find my way.

Ahead is a t-intersection. If I go left, I will end up at a dead end. The right leads to what I assume is the next waypoint, where more columns will be displayed.

My spatial awareness and memory made this task tedious but not difficult. However, another person might take considerable time traversing it.

Hours into the maze, and I have yet to make a mistake. Invisible Dremora are supposed to increase the difficulty, but I can see them with Heat Vision. They do not distract me, but others whose memory and spatial awareness are challenged might lose their way even if they defeat the enemy.

As I travel, the columns appear for the same duration but map a longer route each time. I am using Unrelenting Force to destroy Dremora long before I reach them.

After hours of a relentlessly boring sequence of flames and columns, something different has appeared in the distance. It consists of two round platforms. The path to them is complex, and some may lose concentration as what they think is the end comes into sight.

An hour later, I stand on a larger of two platforms. Its surface is covered in Ehlnofex runes.

Two statues of Malacath, back-to-back, populate the smaller platform. A compartment under the statues contains food and water. I hope this is not the halfway point of this monotonous journey.

I can detect Malacath’s presence.

“Lord Malacath, I am at a loss as to why you are participating in this charade. Isn’t your friend, Lady Boethia, also part of it?”

“That bitch, along with others, are cooperating with The Master for the same reason as I. We do not know how powerful he may become, so we put minimal effort into fulfilling his request.”

“You don’t want to offend him until you know he is weaker than you.”

“That is correct. It is a prudent and wise course.”

“Choosing to align with Altmer at the expense of Orsimer was a betrayal. I have not told your followers of that betrayal.”

“No, and for that, I am grateful. I wish you no harm, mortal, and this test is difficult, but I had faith you would not fail.”

“None of you want me to fail. All of you have individual plans for Nirn and Mundus. You will not aid another being to succeed with theirs if it ruins yours.”

“That is also correct. Now turn, and tell me what you see.”

I have turned, and in the distance is a building. I am using Zoom Vision to see it more clearly.

“Is that The Chapel of The Innocent Quarry?”

“Does it match the description in mortal texts?”

“No, they describe it as a green, crystalline structure.”

“Then perhaps it is not. Why not climb the steps and see?”

“If it is, and I am to be The Hare, the biggest danger would be the ceremonial crap involved. It would bore me to death. They have not fared well against previous mortal champions.”

I am approaching the corridor of flames leading to the building’s steps.

The column rows have appeared, and they are in the same pattern as the first group I encountered. The passage to the left leads to a dead end. The one to the right bypasses the building’s steps.

After turning right, the following half-a-dozen sets of columns had me zig-zagging and backtracking. I can now see two columns green in colour, which is unlike all before them. Intuition tells me that is the exit.

An hour after sighting them, I passed through the green columns and was teleported to what might have once been a Dwemer structure.

I have turned to the portal to address Malacath.

“Lord Malacath, that was too easy, if monotonous beyond words.”

“It would have defeated other mortals. The Master was pleased with its difficulty, not knowing your full capabilities.”

“I hear your people are in peril in High Rock.”

“They ask for my aid. Perhaps you can do something I cannot. I have no mortal champion capable of resolving the issues. Some have turned to other gods. Not ones that you would approve.”

“Now that Skyrim is free of The Stormcloaks, and The Empire is free of The New Order, Emperor Titus Mede II is looking closely at the problems in Evermore. Let us hope he seeks a diplomatic solution before sending in his armies.”

“You have more tasks to complete before this game ends. Do not die.”

“I think The Master would be upset if I did.”

“Indeed, you are providing much entertainment.”

“Does The Master realise he is dead once we meet?”

“Many gods underestimate mortal champions. The Master is a mortal, yet he has the same flaw.”

I have killed several Dremora before entering a strange cavern. I do not know what part of Oblivion I am in, but its owner has a sense of humour.

Above me were Dremora and buildings not on a ceiling but on an inverted cavern floor. Intuition tells me that a set of stairs will eventually place me on that part of the cavern, and where I am now will be above me.

My intuition was correct, and a set of stairs of normal appearance placed me on the inverted cavern floor.

There are many Dremora in the area. They die quickly, like all the others before them.

The Werewolves are aggressive in this area. They die as quickly as the Dremora.

I have entered another cavern with an inverted floor. It is disconcerting to see large bodies of water above.

I must kill more Dremora as I seek keys for unpickable locks. It is tedious as I search the corpses and the many chests I encounter.

It seems that Vaermina is the owner of this pocket plane. I am probably not her favourite mortal after Erandur, and I allowed Lady Mara to destroy The Skull of Corruption.

A key recovered from a chest unlocked the door next to Vaermina’s shrine. It led to the inverted floor with the water. I have no idea why Vaermina would waste Creatia creating such caverns. They are not disorienting or particularly clever.

The constant battles have frayed my temper somewhat.

Several Dremora have felt the rage of my Dragon as I cut them down with more might than skill. One slice was enough to despatch them. However, I cut them into bloody chunks as they fell. My growls echo, as does my laughter.

I am occasionally dispatching enemies on the inverted floors with spells and Shouts. I want observers to understand this idiocy is far from disorienting.

Tedium is abundant as doors lead to the inverted floors populated by Dremora and Werewolves. What was up is now down, and I was not disturbed.

A Dremora Lord charged me, saying, “Sentinel Guuvas and Lord Blackthorn were as incompetent as I thought. Now you face Lord Gorehorn and shall die.”

I laughed and replied, “I did not know I killed Lord Blackthorn. All of you are weak but suffer from big mouths!”

Lord Gorehorn lasted seconds.

Sentinel Guuvas had complained that others got to torture defenceless mortals whilst he had boring sentry duty. The evidence of that depravity is abundant.

I see an Oblivion Stone but will not bother collecting it. If Auryen wants to mention them in the museum, he can have our artisans make a fake one for display.

I am before a door that acts as a portal to another part of Oblivion. I am familiar with Vaermina’s work and know the next pocket plane will be another one of hers.

The stench of sulphur assails my nostrils. Many Daedric Princes enjoy lava landscapes. Therefore, its existence is not a clue to the pocket plane owner’s identity. The portal informed me it was one of Vaermina’s.

Ugly decorations confirmed the owner of the pocket plane to be Vaermina.

I have pondered why Vaermina would put effort into creating these pocket planes. I have concluded they are designed to provide nightmarish vistas and would make most mortals uneasy. Lady Vaermina enjoys the mental anguish of people inside nightmares. I travelled up many ramps and trapsed through many doors before anything changed.

Déjà vu, as I have encountered skeletonised remains with a journal nearby. The relevant section says,

“I have been captive for a while now and can no longer distinguish the passing time. I am unsure if this is day or night since the skies are unreal.

It all started while I was venturing The Sea of Ghosts north of Skyrim, trying to escape an unnaturally violent storm coming from nowhere and get ashore.

My companions suddenly vanished from the boat. At first, I was stunned and afraid they had ruinously fallen into the freezing sea. However, shortly after, I noticed we were spinning with a small iceberg as something lifted the boat off the water. I do not believe they fell or dived into the water below but had, as I first thought, vanished.

The same fate awaited me as a few bright red flashes filled the sky.

Under the most malicious clouds, the storm ended as abruptly as it had started, revealing the unfortunate remains in the wake of its rage.

Ice and ruins surrounded me. Buildings belonging to different regions were scattered, crushed, and trapped inside the ice. From within the buildings, silent screams behind stained windows opened into a livid nightmare. Empty eyes reflecting The Void revealed unspoken horrors. Faces were distorted and crystalised into statue-like obscenities.

Later, I came to realise the already dead were the fortunate ones.

I wandered for days, feeding off the supplies from the boat, until I eventually found people. They were releasing a building from the ice and rubble. I could not believe what I saw. There was a piece of mountain attached to it! It was like a giant pulled it from the ground and tossed it away!

Evil creatures I did not recognise were forcing the few survivors to work. They saw me, and I tried my best to fight them, but they were too many and too strong. Thus, I ended up joining the ranks of the prisoners.

We worked to build trenches and remove rubble that appeared from nowhere, falling from the skies and crashing to the ground.

Many succumbed to the brutal and constant labour. We were forced to feed on our dead!

Eventually, I was pushed into a magic portal and appeared in a most obscure land where the weak and dim light of wherever this is a product of magma flowing from beneath the mountains.

The evil creatures locked me in this cage and occasionally talked in Tamrielic about a test I might have to face.

I doubt I will manage to survive long enough to discover what this unknown horror may be.”

My anger is great, and I do not have the love of Rigmor or companions to weaken it. It is unchecked, and I need to concentrate. I often bait my enemies to enrage them, as that leads to mistakes on their part. We were victims of overconfidence when we entered Solitude’s gate. In contrast, I risk letting my Dragon act before logic and caution intervene, which is equally dangerous.

I touched Mara’s Ring and thought of those I love. They are relying on me, and I must use the anger to ensure my survival, not compromise it. I must feed my determination, not my desire for revenge. The enemy has killed many innocents. They will kill far more if I fail to return with the knowledge gained.

I have arrived on the roof of a standard Empire watchtower replanted in this pocket plane.

Nearby, a bridge crosses a ravine formed by a flowing river of lava.

On the far side is a forest of sickly trees populated by undead of some description.

Zoom Vision shows the undead to be surrounded by a black miasma. I have no doubt they will not welcome my presence.

I crossed the bridge and approached the dead forest. As expected, the undead are aggressive. I am killing dozens with each Unrelenting Force Shout, yet still, they come, unafraid and determined to extinguish a being daring to live in their presence.

Some trees show signs of life in the form of flowers and sickly-looking leaves. I have gathered samples for alchemical analysis.

I have fought my way to ascending stairs.

Dremora and Fire Atronachs protect the winding pathway I follow. They barely slow my progress.

I am observing a Dremora Sparksmith using lava as their forge. His incantation is more ceremonial than productive.

So far, Dremora have been reluctant to investigate the sound of my Thu’um and leave their allotted sentry points. The presence of a Sparksmith suggests an area of civilisation; therefore, stealth is the better choice. So, I cocked my bow and ended the Sparksmith.

It was like I had kicked an ant’s nest when I climbed down. Angry Dremora swarmed me and died.

In the distance is a tower which has become my destination.

People had been thrown into the well of lava. Another Oblivion Stone was on its edge, where it remains. The museum displays more unpleasant artefacts, but Oblivion Stones irritate my sensibilities.

The Sparksmith had nothing of use on him. Amongst his spellbooks and other paraphernalia, I picked up a note. It said,

‘Fufag Feart. Black Soul Gem.’

I assume Fufag is another Dremora and possesses a Black Soul Gem. How exciting!

If it is not yet apparent, my humour is getting darker.

I am trying to reach the distant tower. Unfriendly werewolves are being used as sentries along the track I am following.

I have reached a small outcrop of rock levitating over the lava river. Chains keep it in place. A sacrificial altar on the island has provided nothing of interest or use.

Fire Atronachs are also used as sentries.

I have continued along the path I was on before deviating to the island.

In the distance is another bridge leading to a very long and steep pathway. The bridge passes another watchtower with a boarded-up entrance.

I am laughing as I imagine Rigmor’s reaction to seeing the staircase. My beloved is not one for holding back her opinions. I yearn to see her face once more.

Several Dremora guarded the bridge.

I cannot cross the bridge as a bone gate, held together with a Sigil Stone, blocks the way. I must have missed a key or switch.

Backtracking, I found a portal to another part of this pocket plane.

The portal teleported me near the top of a tower. No minions are protecting it.

I discovered a lever which I activated.

The portal did not return me to my point of origin. Instead, it teleported me to another tower where eighth Dremora Warlocks, standing high on columns, greeted me with fireballs. It was a trap! I replied with Thu’um and Magicka, and they all perished in seconds.

This time, the portal returned me to my point of origin. I have made my way to the bridge, and the bone gate is now open.

Usually, long climbs are made more bearable by stunning scenery. This is not the case in this dreary land of red. So, throwing caution to the wind, of which there is none, I sing several ditties as I go.

I have reached the boarded tower entrance I noticed earlier. In the distance, several Dremora are watching me approach.

Looking above, I have decided I do not trust the mountainside to survive my Thu’um. So, I have charged the Dremora with my sword drawn.

The Dremora are dead, but more of them are ahead. I used Unrelenting Force this time, and the mountain did not collapse.

I am clearing all sentries, whether Dremora, Atronach or werewolf, with The Voice.

I have reached a large castle. It seems to be constructed from different types of stones, making it irregular and ugly. I have no doubt Dremora find it pleasing to their eyes. A single sentry guards the entrance. She awaits me across a small bridge. A bust of Mehrunes Dagon stares downward from above the door.

The sentry attacked and died. As she did so, the doorway vanished and raised spikes denied entry.

The spikes lowered as I approached them. In the distance, I can see a Dremora Lord standing with arms crossed. I am entering an arena. He is to be my opponent.

The light is different in the arena. It has more of a yellow-to-orange hue. A Dremora Overlord sits on a throne, but the only audience to the fight are several dozen Dremora guards.

As I enter, I am using Zoom Vision to study my adversary. He wields a large battleaxe and seems confident.

I am standing in the middle of the arena, awaiting whatever crap the Overlord will undoubtedly regurgitate.

“Mortal, for my amusement, you face my champion, Lord Steiz’aicus, whom we have named Oblivion’s Fury.”

“Ooh, that sounds scary. I am Lord Welkynd, Ysmir, Dragon of the North, Dragonborn and Champion of The Divines, Azura, Boethia, Hermaeus Mora, Meridia and Sheogorath. I have killed hundreds of Dremora in battle and thousands of mortals. Lord Steiz’aicus is not a worthy opponent and would be guilty of challenging far above his station if he dared. But I take it, Overlord, that you have ordered him to his defeat.”

“You are overconfident, mortal.”

“And you are a coward. Even from here, I can detect the barrier that surrounds you. Is Lord Steiz’aicus a greater warrior than you? Are you worthy of my time? If so, come and join your champion in defeat.”

“Enough! Kill him, Lord Steiz’aicus!”

My opponent teleported behind me. I laughed as I Blinked to him and drew my sword.

He lifted his cumbersome battleaxe, thinking I was a piece of firewood that would remain still.

I sliced him from neck to groin. That was the end of Oblivion’s Fury.

Dozens of other Dremora teleported into the arena.

Using my Thu’um, I rattled the very foundations of the arena with my anger.

“EVERY OTHER DREMORA CLAN I HAVE MET HAVE HONOUR. IT SEEMS THOSE ALIGNED WITH THE MASTER ARE HONOURLESS AND COWARDS. WATCH, IF YOU DARE, OVERLORD, AND WITNESS THE POWER OF THE DIVINES.”

I shouted Slow Time and cut down two dozen Dremora before the first’s body hit the ground.

The portcullis was raised when I entered the arena. Therefore, I have no choice but to search for an opening mechanism or another exit.

The Overseer has fled, but I do not doubt we shall meet again.

A group of Dremora attacked and died.

I found a key in a small chest.

Single Dremora were brave and attacked despite seeing what I had accomplished in the arena.

I found a pull chain that raised the portcullis.

I used a twist handle, which made a portal appear in the centre of the arena.

In the distance, I can see the beam of The Chimera of Desolation atop a tower. That is where I shall find The Black Heart and The Keeper. That is my destination.

I leapt down and have approached the portal. It leads to another part of Oblivion. I have no choice but to step through.

I was teleported to a large cavern. The portal has become inert.

The cavern floor is covered in several feet of water. Undead, like those I encountered in the strange forest, are approaching.

Unrelenting Force dispatched the first lot of undead, but I can hear many more awaiting my arrival.

At the end of the cavern is a door with chains connected by a central skull preventing entry. I will need to find the opening mechanism.

I travelled some more and found a locked gate.

A pull chain opened the gate, but many spears thrust upwards, seemingly randomly along a narrow corridor.

I have watched the spears for several minutes, and the pattern is not random. If I time my movements correctly, I can travel the corridor unharmed.

I have made it to the end of the corridor without an unwanted enema. I am now in a large cavern with steps leading up.

A chest sits behind a wooden fence. I have no doubt it will have nothing of use within but is a honey pot. I will not be the fly.

As usual, Dremora watch me but will not leave their guard post.

Unrelenting Force eliminated them.

They were guarding a fancy door made of Dwemer metal with an unpickable lock. None of the keys I have collected will open it. Therefore, I have more tedious searching to do.

I am climbing more stairs, eliminating Dremora as I go.

At the top of the stairs, there is a large plateau. I was met by many Dremora. None of them got close before my Thu’um tore them apart.

A portal has opened, and a Daedric Prince’s avatar came through it accompanied by a Wispmother. The ethereal form of The Druhunian Dragon has also manifested and now sits atop a small tower observing the developments. His body resembles a typical dragon, like his copies at the entrance to this maze of Oblivion.

I have used Zoom Vision to examine the dragon, the Wispmother, and the god’s avatar closely.

“Lady Meridia, I recognise your avatar from when I became your champion. You have solved a heated argument among the mortal scholars of Nirn. On one side, some adhere to Master Sadren Sarethi’s theory that Wispmothers are a necrologic state, a type of Lichdom developed by a now-forgotten First Era culture. Under his theory, these are no mere ghosts but are a cult of powerful sorceresses who achieved eternal life through undeath.

But you would not use undead minions, would you? So, that supports Lydette Viliane of the Synod’s theory. She contends that Wispmothers are not undead at all. She argues they are elemental manifestations arising out of Nirn itself. By noting several similarities to Spriggans and Ice Wraiths, she contends that the Wispmothers are essentially elemental personifications of snow or mist, innately wielding the power of their element instead of manipulating it through conventional sorcery.

Either way, I know how to defeat Wispmothers, so it is a poor choice to send against me. But then again, you have probably done your minimum to appease The Master.”

Receiving no reply from the Daedric Prince, I have turned my attention to the dragon.

“Brother, I have met your brothers or sons or replicas. You should be proud of their defiance against your captors. Unnatural they may be, but they have the true spirit of Dov.”

“Thank you, Dovahkiin. They suffer for their defiance, but it is our way, is it not?”

“Indeed, there are few, if any, species more stubborn than the Dov.”

I drew my sword and approached the Wispmother. Her elemental attacks did me little harm.

Similarly, the physical and most of the elemental damage from my sword would do her no harm. However, like some vampires, Wispmothers are susceptible to fire.

I touched her with my sword, and she screamed as flames engulfed her. She tried to flee towards the portal, but it had closed, and she perished.

A defeated Dremora was dressed in ceremonial robes. I retrieved a key from one of his pockets.

From the ectoplasm remains of the Wispmother, I retrieved another key.

A mortal has recently been sacrificed. I assume the robed figure was the perpetrator.

A chest was in a locked cage. The key from the robed figure unlocked the cage door.

I am standing before the chest, and it is a portal.

Upon opening the chest, I was teleported to a laboratory.

Tools of necromancy are in abundance. From a table, I retrieved a journal. The relevant section reads,

“I have sent the last report to my Overlord, informing him of my progress. Now, I can burn all those pages filled with ancient formulas and adaptations for this grandiose ritual.

I managed to stabilise all the magic alignments between portals definitively. The immense power of The Void flows through many of the Oblivion realms. This allows The Chimera of Desolation to catalyse the dimensional waves through The Black Heart. The Keeper is getting stronger due to its bond.

All the servants The Master provided in the last decade, all the enslaved captured from dissolving Tamriel, waking up in their crumbled homes sucked into Oblivion. All these magnificent tragedies have fuelled my resolve.

The Gates in Skyrim are opening while we prepare to swallow the whole region.

I must make ready the ceremony for the ultimate sacrifice to the Dark Lords.”

If I am to be the ultimate sacrifice, The Master has made a mistake. I do not think he realises not all Daedric Princes desire my demise. I assume, like Vonos and Mehrunes Dagon, The Master plans to use the power of my soul as the catalyst for destroying The Liminal Barrier. All the ritualistic mumbo-jumbo surrounding the sacrifice would be irrelevant. Much like the crap the priests were muttering over Rigmor’s ensorcelled body.

There is no prominent portal to return me to whence I came. However, there is a bloodied skull with a portal dweomer.

I touched the skull and returned to the cage with the chest.

Looking around, I found a lever and pulled it, not knowing what it did.

I am looking down, and chains still bar the doorway below.

A floating skull has been rotating as if watching what I do. I think I shall get closer and have a chat with it.

“Who is scrying via the skull? If it is The Master, you need help. Your fixation with skulls is not healthy. Whoever it is, have you learned anything? I have displayed a tiny fraction of my powers, so do not get too smug. If it is that cowardly Overseer, enjoy your last moments.”

I have decided to try the Wispmother’s key with the fancy door I found earlier.

The door unlocked, and I entered what looked like Nord ruins.

I trigger Runes with Unrelenting Force whenever I encounter them. The residents of these pocket planes seem fond of them.

When I triggered a rune, Dremora attacked down a narrow corridor. That, of course, magnifies the strength of Unrelenting Force as it is concentrated into a narrow band. They did not survive.

I am not a fan of Daedric art, but much of it is clever in design.

A lowered portcullis barred access to an unlocked door.

A pull chain next to the portcullis raised it. Why such idiocy? I do not know.

The door gave access to a cluster of small rooms.

A raised portcullis blocks entry to a cavern full of Dremora.

Malacath’s statues are predominant in this pocket realm. However, it is not part of The Ash Pit.

I am killing many Dremora as I look for the switch to lower the portcullis.

I found a twist handle. It lowered the portcullis.

Heat Vision shows the room to be full of Dremora. I have cast Shroudwalk and entered.

The Overlord sits on a throne. I am tempted to assassinate him with an arrow, but a barrier undoubtedly protects him as one did in the arena. Instead, I shall kill his many guards and Dremora doctrine will give him no choice but to confront me.

I have quickly eliminated dozens of guards. The Overlord kept teleporting more in, but they never lasted long. Eventually, he ran out of lackeys to sacrifice.

I have dismissed Shroudwalk and stand in full view before the barrier.

“Overlord, do you have the courage to lower your barrier and face me in battle? Or are you lacking in courage as well as honour?”

A few seconds of silence was the answer I expected.

A nearby chest was full of flawless gems. I have happily replenished my gem bag with a select few.

A lever and a pull chain lowered the Overseer’s barrier.

I have forced his hand, and the Overseer joins me in battle.

My katana rarely turns an opponent into a pile of smoking ash. However, that was the fate of the Overseer. He lasted two slices of my sword.

From his ashes, I retrieved yet another key.

I pushed a button beside the throne, and two portals opened at the room’s far end.

Each portal had a very inattentive Dremora guard. They died quickly.

Both portals lead to the same place within this pocket plane. I will walk through the right-hand one.

I have been teleported to a small room hot from the lava flowing through it. The portals have closed.

I found nothing of interest except a pull chain. I have pulled it, and the portals opened. I have returned to where I killed the Overseer.

I am making my way to the door blocked by the skull and chains.

I am dismayed to find the skull and chain are still in place.

When I approached the door, the skull and chains slowly disappeared. I will not have to backtrack as I feared.

I am where The Black Heart is. Six Dremora spellcasters are keeping The Chimera of Desolation open.

I have eliminated the spellcasters with great prejudice and much satisfaction.

The Keeper has manifested, and I stand before him with my sword sheathed. I want him to know how little I fear him. He is armed with a mace and appears to be a formidable warrior from his movements and stance.

In the short time it took him to draw back his mace and attack, I drew my sword, manoeuvred around him, and plunged it through his back and out his stomach. I smiled as he stared at it in disbelief before disintegrating into a pile of smouldering ash. I think The Keeper and Overlord must have been allergic to several feet of folded steel in their guts.

Upon The Keeper’s demise, The Black Heart became visible.

Several Dremora have started firing arrows at me from up high. It will not take long to end that rudeness.

The vermin are no more, and I can retrieve The Black Heart. I do not know what will happen when I do.

The Chimera of Desolation is extinguished, and I have placed The Black Heart in my Journal Case.

A hidden door in the form of a stone slab is slowly lowering. There appears to be no other exit available.

I am approaching the exit, and it leads to The Void. Unlike when The New Order defeated me, I do not have a part of my soul on Nirn. Its entirety is within me, and I cannot last long within that plane.

Intuition tells me I have no choice. I must risk The Void and hope to find a portal that will take me somewhere less hostile to mortal life.

The power of The Chimera of Desolation is on full display. They have pulled a complete moon into The Void!

To my left is a bridge. I can see a portal at its end. Please understand that I have always trusted my intuition. I will not look for another way out of this nightmare.

My Lifeforce is quickly draining, and I have seconds to reach the portal. A single Dremora Lord stands between me and it.

I have staggered closer to the Dremora. It has not moved towards me and is probably aware of my weakening state.

The Dremora finally lost patience and attacked. I managed to leap back to give me some time. It survived eight Unrelenting Force Shouts. I have never encountered an entity that survived more than three.

I am creeping towards the portal, but not quick enough. I am sorry, my friends. I do not think I can make it. I hope this journal is found so that Rigmor does not wonder what happened and its information leads to The Master’s defeat.

“Wulf, where are you? We did not see you come through the Oblivion Gate.”

“Rigmor? How? I am in The Void! This should not be possible.”

“You are dying, Wulf. I can sense your life draining away. Worry about how and why Mara’s Rings work later. Just get home!”

“I think I know the answer, but keep talking, Rigmor. Let our love guide me.”

Even though I am seconds from death, I have stopped briefly to admire the power on display. An entire moon has been dragged into The Void, and anchors created to stabilise the pocket plane’s position on the edge of Oblivion.

“Wulf, I can hear your thoughts. Whoop de do about moons and anchors. Keep moving, Dragonbum!”

“I am approaching a portal. I do not know if it will take me back to Nirn. Stay clear of the Oblivion Gate in case it goes boom!”

“Anywhere has to be better than The Void, am I right?”

“It is taking me too long. I should be dead.”

“I was not asleep when you explained how you returned from The Void last time. You survived because part of your soul was still in Mundus. I contain part of your soul, my Guardian!”

“You figured it out! Yes, our entwined souls are the reason I still live. But it is not enough to sustain me at this rate of draining.”

“Logically, the portal you are approaching must be a conduit to Nirn. That is why Mara’s Rings work. Now, keep moving!”

“Yes, Countess. Your humble bootlicker is trying to obey despite the shock of you using logic.”

“Idiot! Anyway, Silah has appeared. She must sense something.”

I crawled to the portal and let myself fall into it. Not knowing where it led, I drew my sword, which seemed to weigh a ton.

I appeared before the Oblivion Gate on my knees and gasping for breath. I saw some of the Dragonguard, and dropped my sword in relief.

Rigmor yelled, “Let me go, Inigo!”

My friend replied, “No, Rigmor, the gate may explode.”

Vayu added, “Give it a few seconds, Rigmor.”

As I struggled to stay conscious, the Oblivion Gate exploded, and I sank to the bottom of the lake.

Rigmor’s screams muffled by the water were the last thing I heard.